Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn

If you decide to click play on Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, be prepared for the most honest opening in cinema history: an unsimulated, three-minute amateur sex tape. There’s no soft lighting, no rhythmic soundtrack, just the awkward, fumbling reality of two people in a bedroom. I watched this for the first time on a laptop while sitting in a very quiet doctor’s waiting room (with headphones, thank god), and the sheer audacity of Radu Jude starting a "serious" film this way made me nearly drop my phone. It’s a gatekeeper scene; if you can’t get past the "porn" of the title, you aren't ready for the "loony" reality of the world that follows.

This isn't just a movie about a leaked video; it’s a middle finger aimed squarely at the hypocrisy of modern society. Set in a grey, grumpy Bucharest during the height of the pandemic, the film follows Emi (Katia Pascariu), a history teacher whose life is imploding because a private video she made with her husband ended up on the internet.

The Long Walk of Shame

The first act of the film is essentially a walking tour of urban misery. We follow Emi as she runs errands, her face obscured by a surgical mask—a detail that makes the film feel like a time capsule of our very recent, very weird history. Radu Jude (who also directed the brilliant Aferim!) captures the ambient aggression of a modern city. People scream at each other in traffic, supermarket lines are battlefields, and the architecture itself looks tired.

Katia Pascariu gives a performance that is almost entirely in the eyes and the posture. She’s slumped, she’s defensive, but she’s also deeply annoyed. She’s not a "victim" in the cinematic sense; she’s an educator who is rightfully pissed off that her professional life is being weighed against what she does in her bedroom. Watching her navigate the sidewalk rage of Bucharest is the most accurate depiction of "Tuesday afternoon burnout" I’ve ever seen on screen.

A Chaotic Wikipedia Interlude

Then, the movie just… stops. The second act is titled "A Short Dictionary of Anecdotes, Signs, and Wonders." It’s a montage of clips, definitions, and jokes that tackle everything from Romanian history and the Orthodox Church to consumerism and the "Me Too" movement. If you’re looking for a traditional narrative, this part will drive you up the wall. The middle section is a chaotic Wikipedia rabbit hole that would make a high school history teacher weep.

I’ll be honest: some of these vignettes felt a bit like a sociology professor shouting at me through a megaphone, but that’s the point. Jude is contextualizing Emi’s "scandal" within a history of much larger, much more violent obscenities that society has decided to ignore. Why is a woman’s anatomy a national crisis, but the celebration of war criminals is just "heritage"? It’s provocative, intellectual, and intentionally jarring. It’s the kind of segment that makes you want to pause the movie every five minutes just to Google a name or a date.

The Trial of the Loony

The final act is where the "Loony Porn" really kicks in. Emi has to face a "trial" by a committee of parents at her school. They sit in a courtyard, socially distanced and masked, looking like a low-budget Inquisition. This is where the comedy turns razor-sharp. The parents—played with wonderful, terrifying banality by actors like Claudia Ieremia and Nicodim Ungureanu—are a cocktail of religious zealotry, fake concern for "the children," and blatant sexism.

It’s a masterpiece of dialogue. The parents use the same talking points you’ll find in any toxic Twitter thread or Facebook comment section today. They claim they aren't "judgmental," right before they call her a slur. They demand "values," while behaving like animals. It’s basically the cinematic equivalent of getting yelled at by a very smart person in a bar. What makes it work is how Emi refuses to play the repentant sinner. She doesn't cry; she argues history.

Apparently, the production had to pivot hard because of COVID-19 protocols, which is why so much of the film takes place outdoors or in well-ventilated spaces. Turns out, the masks actually help the movie. They highlight the eyes of the accusers and the accused, making the standoff feel more intimate and claustrophobic. Plus, there's something hilarious about a man delivering a fiery speech about morality while his mask keeps slipping off his nose.

Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is a confrontational, messy, and hilarious piece of contemporary art. It’s a film that couldn't have existed ten years ago—not just because of the pandemic, but because it perfectly captures how the internet has blurred the lines between our private selves and our public personas. It doesn't offer easy answers or a feel-good ending. Instead, it gives you a choice of three different endings, ranging from the realistic to the cathartically absurd. If you’ve ever felt like the world has collectively lost its mind, this is the movie that will make you feel seen. Just, maybe, don't watch the first three minutes with your parents.